


destiny in a coffee cup

by Daanny



Series: newgame+ [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, M/M, New Game+, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 09:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15969956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daanny/pseuds/Daanny
Summary: Akira wants is his money back from Goro, yet the only thought in Akechi's mind is Shido's demise. Yaldabaoth wants control. And Ren just wants everything to be right again.





	1. Coffee Grinder

**Author's Note:**

> no honourifics will be used, all characters address each other with first names only, and last name first name scheme will be used  
> texts will be... normal text language im not from persona 5  
> who texts with periods and capitals get that shit outta here
> 
> side pairings include [will be added to as i decide on them]: Ann/Shiho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A machine used to grind up roasted coffee beans.
> 
> Example Sentence: To begin our process of creating coffee, I will be grinding up the beans I bought earlier with a coffee grinder.

Akira looks out the window. His side is melded to the cool metal of the train. The train races past tiny houses tucked away behind rolling hills, winding rivers descending from majestic mountains and soaring skyscrapers cutting into the deep green of nature. He shuts his eyes.

The scent of coffee from a couple seats away reminds him of his empty stomach from his mother ushering him out of the apartment as fast as she could manage. He wishes he could forget the look on his mother’s face, but when he finally wipes his mind clean of his mother, it’s replaced by an overpowering stench of rotting flesh. Akira’s eyes fly open in shock.

It _has_ to be a dream.

Blood pours relentlessly from the heavens, flooding the city around him. Skeletons of long dead animals wrap around the buildings of Tokyo, rising high up in the sky and blotting out the sun. Crowds of walking people burst into clouds of black smoke that dissolves into nothing. Distressed shouts are drowned out by the footsteps of those rushing to their workplaces and schools without aim nor meaning.

Akira watches in horror as the liquid slowly rises to his ankles, then to his knees. He tries to open his mouth, to shout for help, only to find that he can’t. His feet are rooted to the ground and his mouth won’t move. The liquid rises past his chest, to his chin, then rushes into his mouth, nostrils and into his lungs. Akira can’t breathe. Unable to make even the smallest of movements, his consciousness fades.

He wakes up in a tunnel. Red pipes pulse with each thud that pounded at the inside of his skull. A train races past the platform Akira stands on. Disfigured bodies are scattered behind the train, blood pooling into a pungent mess. A second train roars past him at breakneck speed and adds dismembered body parts into the mix. Only the third train slows to a stop. The doors slide open slowly and Akira finds a boy his age curled up on the ground, dried blood matting his brown hair and fresh blood seeping from cuts covering every inch of his body. The doors slam shut when the thought of reaching for the boy crosses his mind. He can only watch as the train speeds up, leaving the station.

 _Not again_ , a voice rings out from all around him. Akira takes a step back.

Again? “What do you—”

The scenery fades like water flowing down a glass pane. In a blue room surrounded by prison cells, he watches someone an exact copy of himself desperately shake his head in front of a long-nosed man. The man vanishes into thin air only to be replaced by a man of the same face. A young girl in a vividly blue dress smiles sadly at him. Akira shakes his head and covers his ears.

His eyes fly open to find himself safely situated in the seat of a decelerating train.

“Yongen-Jaya,” the monotonous voice reports and repeats it once again. Akira slings the bag over his shoulder and makes his way towards the train doors.

The doors slide smoothly open and he steps out onto the platform he’s seen countless times, except that he hasn’t. Today is the first time he’s been anywhere near Yongen-Jaya, yet he can’t shake off the unsettling feeling of deja vu that haunts each of his steps. He follows the stream of people up a flight of stairs and lets his feet take him through the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya. Akira’s mind wanders away to God-knows-where and he only lifts his head when he realizes that he’s stopped in front of a coffee shop: Leblanc.

He sees himself walking home with a cat sticking its head out of his bag sharing a pleasant conversation. An orange haired girl with her head propped up on the counter and an ageing man behind the counter look over at the door of the cafe when he pulls it open. They smile and welcome him back.

Akira shakes his head and his mind clears. He pulls the door open. The same man as he saw in the memory sits on one of the stools with a newspaper in hand. The only two customers leave when they see him come in.

“Right, it’s today. I really don’t have the memory for these things,” Sojiro says.

“Thank you for agreeing to take me in for the next year,” Akira says with a quick bow.

“I didn’t expect someone with manners. So you…”

Akira’s mind drifts away once again, only nodding when appropriate. His mind is blank and he can’t seem to retain anything Sojiro’s saying.

“I’ll leave It to you then,” Sojiro says. Akira’s expression must have shifted into alertness because Sojiro scowls. “You haven’t been listening, have you?”

“I have,” Akira answers quietly and unconvincingly.

“Well, it’s not my problem,” Sojiro says and heads down the stairs.

Akira blinks. He must have followed Sojiro up the stairs without realizing. The room he stands in is cluttered with trash bags and piles of junk. Dust floats throughout the musty air. Akira stifles a sneeze and steps carefully through junk to open the windows. He’s not sure if the breeze is going to help remove the dust or do the very opposite. He hopes it’s not the latter.

Amid the trash bags and burlap bags and stacks of books and blue tarp and too much plastic, is his own cardboard box, packed and sent straight from the home he doesn’t want to remember. He slits open the packing tape with the keys he won’t touch for a whole year and opens up the box. Above the spare outfits he remembers stuffing in half-heartedly, are several things he’s sure he has never seen before but _knows_.

 _How_ did he manage to get all of these to fit?

There’s crazy outfits that belong in movies, knives, swords, an axe and a bunch of guns. Underneath are more smaller items like a recipe note for curry and coffee (Akira can cook… right?), a fancy box, a dog tag, and Akira shuts the box again.

Ignorance, sometimes, is the key to happiness. He stands up again, patting dust off his behind.

The open window hasn’t done much for the junk on the floor, but the air is at least a little more breathable. Cleaning has never been his strong suit, but he’s sure he can at least get the room to look livable. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.

Hours later, the room is not cleared, but at least Akira could almost walk to each corner without tripping over garbage on the floor that seemed to have it out to kill him. He makes a mental note find out when the next trash collection day is.

Sojiro’s compliments to his clean job are very much unnecessary. Akira pushes down the desire to call him out for leaving a bunch of trash around, but figures it wouldn’t have done much for the whole “please let me stay here for a year” case.

“Is it alright if I go to the bathhouse tonight?” Akira asks.

The disapproval in Sojiro’s expression is evident, and Akira’s just about to settle for a night covered in dust when Sojiro begrudgingly says, “Thirty minutes. Any time after and I’m locking you out for the night.”

Akira sprints.

* * *

“You made it back,” Sojiro says from behind the counter with a tone indicating the possible thoughts of wanting to lock Akira out for the night.

Akira is quite sure he did consider it and probably was going to do so, but he didn’t, and that’s the most important thing. He tilts his head in response.

Sojiro holds out a small notebook and Akira takes it with both hands, “Here, it’s a diary. Make sure you write in it.”

Akira nods.

“You’re on probation, but there’s no real restriction on what you do. However, I’m obligated to report on you, so I’m having you record your activities.”

Akira nods again.

“I’ll lock up shop for tonight, don’t even think about wandering out. If something goes missing in my shop, I’m handing you over to the cops.”

Akira twists a lock of his hair between his thumb and forefinger. It’s only fair that Sojiro would show hostility, but it feels strange coming from Sojiro. Akira remembers a different Sojiro, one willing to sit down with him after a hard day and— that’s all within his dreams. He nods.

“We’ll be going to Shujin tomorrow. I can drive you, but only tomorrow. After that, you’ll have to take the subway. You better go to bed right away, I’m not responsible if you get sick from staying up late.”

Akira nods and heads up the stairs to the attic. He opens up the diary and pulls out a pen from his school bag. On a closer look at the diary, his eyes narrow. The book is just about filled with scribbles easily recognizable as his own. He flips through it quickly to the end, and then opens it back up to the beginning again.

The writing is no longer there; the diary is completely blank. Akira presses a thumb to his temple and scrawls down a few lines on the first page. Throwing the diary down on the table beside his school bag, he turns the other way and collapses on his bed.

He shuts his eyes and hopes for a dreamless sleep, but if he were to have every wish granted, life would be much too easy.

* * *

A boy. His face half covered with a black and red mask. Brown locks matted with blood barely visible in the small window where the mask broke off, shattered into a million pieces. Blood dripping from his head, brows screwed together in pain and anger, blood dripping down his fingertips, eyes looking into his own one last time, transmitting a message he will never decipher. Blood clings to Akira’s skin and face and blots out his sight. Blood entering his ear canals and he hears subdued sounds of metal shutters.

Akira’s falling, falling and—

He groans, pushing himself off the ground. Brushing off dust from the side that hit the floor, he pulls himself back into bed.

So much for a dreamless sleep.

With the covers over his face, he blindly paws for his phone. After multiple attempts of trial and error, he finally manages pulls his phone under his covers and turns on the screen. His eyelids immediately shut at the unwelcome light, and he slowly forces them open again. It is almost seven. Soijro’s voice in the back of his mind reminds him of the planned visit to Shujin today, burning all hopes and wishes for going straight back to bed away in a bonfire.

Akira groans.

He needs his beauty sleep, Sojiro doesn’t… probably.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, it’s a rude occasion where Sojiro roughly pulls the covers off his body and tells him to get up with a voice of pure annoyance. Akira thinks he had an important dream, though he can’t recall even the slightest amount of it.

* * *

Shujin was dull. The principal was a hell of a man that took up ninety percent of the space behind his elaborately adorned desk. His homeroom teacher introduced herself with a mixed expression of boredom and concern for her future. On the trip back, Akira remembers Sojiro’s voice drawling on and on, spelling out words of advise that he can’t seem to recall a word of nor, to be perfectly honest, care about.

They step back into the warmth of Leblanc. Sojiro flicks the light on and says something that vaguely sounds like a question, spurring Akira’s brain back into action. At look of confusion on his face, Sojiro sighs and repeats, “It’s still early, but I won’t be opening up shop. You’re not going anywhere tonight, right?”

“I’d like to go to the bathhouse again, if that’s okay”

“I thought you’d say that. Here,” Sojiro throws something that Akira barely manages to catch. The metal rests cold in his palm. “I don’t know why, but I think I can trust you. Don’t make me regret this.”

Akira nods, opens his mouth and shuts it again.

“Got something to say?”

“Why…” his voice trails off. “Thank you.”

Sojiro nods approvingly, “Don’t sleep too late.” The bell on the door jingles as Sojiro leaves for his own home.

The fragrant smell of coffee mixed with the piquant taste of curry washes over him, calming the fatigue burning at his skin that he didn’t even know was there. He’s only been here a day but there’s undoubtedly a sense of belonging, so much more than that dining table with the parents that pretended to care about his day, pretended to care for each other and pretended to care about their make-believe home. He props up his elbows up on the counter and presses the heels of his hands into the sockets of his eyes.

He should wash up and get some sleep. While he’d love to sit and wallow in his sorrow for a couple hours longer, he has school tomorrow, and he should at least try to live up to Sojiro’s expectations… which really shouldn’t be too difficult because Akira’s sure that Sojiro doesn’t have any expectations of him, but he’d at least like to not make that expectation fall below zero.

* * *

His dreams are filled with prisons and rehabilitation and chains and it’s his fault. It’s always his fault and it’s always been his fault and why did he ever think otherwise and of course he’s such a failure. His parents abandoned him because he’s like this and— if he were to make the same decision, he’d abandon a son like him too.

Akira is sorry.

But he’s scared that even if he says he’s sorry, there is no longer anyone willing to listen to his words.

* * *

Akira wakes up weary. His eyelids feel like they’re glued together and he’s sure that if he looks, there’d be an iron ball chained to each of his limbs. The enticing warmth of his bed has Akira drifting off into the realm of sleep before a flash of blue burns away any lingering desire of sleep.

He dresses slowly and packs his bag slowly. He throws in an umbrella slowly and makes his way downstairs even slower, tripping on the third step to the first floor and crashing into the wall. The lights in the bathroom are harsh against his barely-open eyes and the toilet brings back unwanted memories of his dream. He dunks his face in cold water. It only serves to give him an un-refreshing brain freeze.

Sojiro’s curry is delicious, though, and Akira almost feels like the morning isn’t all that bad.

Almost.

“Thank you for the food. It was delicious.”

“Yeah. Hurry to school. You don’t want to be late on the first day.”

Akira lets his feet take him back to the Yongen-Jaya station. He boards the train and holds his bag close to his body, trying to take up at little space as possible around all the other riders. His mind drifts from the nightmares to the man beside him in deep need of a bath to the coffee he wishes he’d asked for more of to the news playing on the screen over his head. Shibuya station is more crammed than the train itself, if that was even possible. At the sight of uniforms resembling his own, however, his mind zones out comfortably as he falls into step behind them.

Which, of course, brings about the cliche that was bound to happen.

He rounds a corner and walks straight into the side of someone leaning on the other side of the pole.

It’s hard.

God forbid he walks into someone with any amount of meat on their bones.

“Sorry,” Akira mutters, taking a step to the side and continuing on behind his schoolmates. At least, he tries to, before an equally bony hand stops him in his path. “I apologize for that, but I need to—”

“I’m deeply sorry as well, but have we met before?”

Silky brown hair frames the perfect face glowing with the assistance of expensive skin care. The reddish-brown eyes showing a hint of recognition in the midst of all the confusion. The carefully smoothed down jacket and a pair of sleek black pants. It is safe to say that Akira has no idea who the person in front of him is, yet the brown hair does remind him of something, something he can’t quite put words to. Maybe he was in one of his recent nightmares, but the abundance of them also means he really hasn’t clued in any further on who the person in front of him is.

“Probably not? Unless you used to live in the countryside,” Akira answers after a long time. “Sorry, I really should get going. First day of school and I don’t want to be late.”

“Oh, did you just transfer here?” Akira nods. “I apologize. I won’t take up any more of your time then, but please, as a token of my apology, I’d like to buy you dinner some time. Here is my number.”

The boy hands over a business card that Akira really has no idea of what to do with.

“It’s fine, it was my fault too—”

“Please, I insist.”

“…Uh, OK,” Akira stuffs the card in his pants pocket. “Sorry, I really have to go, so, um, catch you later.”

“Yes, that would be great. I’ll see you next time.”

Akira ignores the sense of deja vu clouding over his brain and follows some Shujin students to school. Hopefully, he won’t be late. There’s probably no getting around a horrible first impression, but hey, he can at least try.

* * *

His homeroom teacher looks at him the way one might look at a roach discovered crawling through their pleasant shower. Though it’s not unexpected, it’s still quite unpleasant. When Akira’s asked to introduce himself, he thinks his words were carefully chosen and his voice manipulated to sound friendly and enthusiastic, yet the reaction from the class isn’t quite what he expected. Whispers break out almost on cue about his criminal status and he can’t help but wonder how the news got around.

 _It won_ _’t hurt me_ , Akira convinces himself. He knows none of the people that faced him, whispering behind their hands. And he won’t know them. Nothing will be worse than having his closest, most trusted friends turn their backs on him only months ago. He blinks and heads off to his desk, where he sits down and immediately turn to stare out the window.

Class passes by relatively dull. Even with his neighbour’s childish refusal of sharing textbooks, Akira keeps up with the material with ease. It’s almost funny when one of the teacher calls on him with a condescending snicker only for Akira’s near-instant answer to replace the scorn on his face with shock. Ignoring the useless preaching at the front of the room with relative ease, Akira drifts in and out of consciousness, exhaustion knocking him towards sleep yet loud cracks of gunshots and flares of blue firmly block the entry to the realm of rest.

A bell signifies the end of the day and Akira covers a yawn behind a hand. He pulls out his phone and his thumb hovers over the red eye glaring into the depth of his mind. He frowns.

He doesn’t remember downloading the app, nor does he know its purpose, yet the icon seems familiar. He presses down and a robotic female voice immediately pipes up on speaker. Eyes from all around the classroom turn and stare as Akira fumbles with his volume and all but sprints out of the room in embarrassment.

 _I need earphones_ , he thinks, and then wonders if the app would bypass his earphones and blast his classmates with the speaker on full volume again. He sighs and shoves his phone away in his school bag. For now, he needs to get back to Leblanc before Sojiro wonders where he’s died off to and reconsiders Akira’s keys privileges. Adjusting his bag, he sets off and hopes he won’t get lost in the midst of his train transfer.

Around the corner, a pair of brown eyes watch as Akira heads down the stairs, “So that’s the transfer student. I wonder if he…”


	2. Tiramisù

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally means "pick me up" or "cheer me up" in Italian. A dessert flavoured with coffee. Made up of lady fingers dipped in espresso and layered with a mixture of eggs, sugar and mascarpone cheese. Generally topped with cocoa powder.
> 
> Example Sentence: Even though tiramisu is already coffee-flavoured, it still pairs well with coffee.

On the second day of school, Akira forgets his pencil case. It’s such an elementary mistake that he wants to smack himself in the face, but he feels marginally better when he recalls that he didn’t write down a single letter yesterday beyond the date. Instead of listening carefully to the teachers’ lectures, he turns his head in the direction of the window and lets his mind wander without even the slightest amount of restraint.

The sky is the lightest shade of blue with wisps of white cloud drifting through here and there. Akira will never understand the magic the sky holds, yet whenever he looks up at it like this, he feels himself and all his stress melting away. He yawns but nearly flinches when a flash of velvet blue suddenly cuts through the sky; it’s the same colour that kept on disrupting him the last few days. He wonders what the flashes mean, but even if he thinks his hardest over it, no answers grace him.

And with that, he lets himself zone out to the soft azure of the sky again.

It’s only when the girl in front of him twirls around, blonde pigtails bouncing wildly and says, “Hey, it’s lunch already,” that he finally realizes that he wasted away the entire morning zoned out.

“Oh,” he says, removing the hand propping up his face. He’s certain from the numbness that his hand left a mark on his chin, but what can he do? “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem. But hey, I’m surprised the teachers didn’t say anything the entire morning.”

Akira is surprised as well as he pats down his hair. He fully expected his hair to be covered in a dusting of chalk by this time, but all seems to be clear, “Same.”

“I don’t think I introduced myself yet. I’m Takamaki Ann. It’s nice to meet you,” she says.

“Kurusu Akira. It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Hey, did you bring lunch? If not, wanna go grab some bread before they sell out?”

His hand creeps up to a strand of hair and starts twisting it between two fingers. _Did_ he bring lunch? He doesn’t think so… no, he definitely didn’t bring lunch. He’s not sure what he _could_ _’ve_ brought for lunch to begin with. Perhaps he’ll ask Sojiro for permission to use the kitchen tonight. Hopefully Sojiro won’t forbid him kitchen usage, but in the case he does, Akira supposes he’ll just have to settle for bread for the next year. He si—

“Are you even listening?”

Akira jumps, eyes wild until they settle on Ann in front of him, face full of annoyance, “Sorry, I zoned out. Yes, let’s go get bread.”

“Great!” Ann says enthusiastically, all hints of annoyance dissipating into thin air. “Let’s go grab Shiho too. She texted me saying she forgot to bring her lunch too.”

“Who’s Shiho?” Akira asks, pocketing his wallet before following a bouncing Ann.

“She’s my best friend! She’s in the volleyball team here and she’s suuuuper good at it! Wanna go watch practise later today? I’m sure you’ll be amazed!”

“Um… If I have the time, I certainly will. I still need to unpack my stuff.”

“Oh, gotcha. Don’t worry about it! When you have the time though, you’d better go watch!”

“Sure,” Akira’s not sure how he got roped into watching volleyball practise, but it’s OK, he’s not nothing better to do with his time anyway.

The line-up in front of the school store is monstrous. Akira has half the heart to wonder if it’s even possible to eat before the bell rings again. But with Ann beside him at the back of the line, he’s content knowing that he’s not the only one faced with the fate of resealing the bread bag with half-eaten bread, leaving it in the bottom of his school bag and digging it out at night finding it’s been crushed into oblivion by his textbooks.

“I texted Shiho, she said she’ll be here in a minute. Apparently Kamoshida wanted to have a talk with her about volleyball practise,” Ann says, worry flooding her expression. Akira’s surprised someone’s face can be so expressive; he wonders if he could ever be like that.

But if he were to show his true emotions, would those around him love him for it? Or would they hate him for it?

He blinks away his thoughts and instead says calmly, “You sound worried.”

“Well, yeah! Kamoshida’s the coach for the volleyball team, but…” her voice trails off and her eyes look off in the distance.

The gap between the people before them elongate and the people behind them pipe up, “Excuse me!”

“Oh, sorry,” Ann says, and they take a few steps forward. “Yeah, never mind, I’ll tell you later.”

Akira senses a tragic backstory coming up and thinks it best not prod, “Definitely.”

“I wonder when Shiho’s coming though… I want to tell her about the new friend I made…”

“Hopefully soon.”

“Yeah… wait— she…” she suddenly jumps in the air, waving an arm frantically. “Shiho! Over here!”

A black haired girl with bangs and a ponytail stop in front of them. She’s wearing a knee brace and Akira stops to wonder if its for decorative purposes only or if she actually requires it.

“Sorry I’m late, Ann,” Shiho says. “The talk went on for a bit longer than I thought it would.”

“No problem! He didn’t do anything weird… did he?” Ann says.

Shiho shakes her head, “Not today. Anyway, this is the friend you were talking about, right?”

“Yeah! This is Kurusu Akira, he just transferred into my class yesterday. Everyone seems to have him pegged as a criminal, though.”

At the mention of the word _criminal_ , silence sweeps over the bustling hallway unnaturally. The other students in the line-up turn and stare at Akira for seconds before turning back to their companions and whispering loudly.

“ _Did you hear? Apparently he carries knives around with him._ _”_

_“If you look at him weird, he might just beat you to a pulp, haha.”_

_“He looks quiet and all… but that’s always the type in horror movies that turns out to be a psycho!_ ”

Akira studies his feet and his hand shoots up to twirl a piece of hair between his fingers. He supposes he deserves it. Hopefully, Ann and Shiho won’t be caught in the midst of his rumours.

“Hey? Akira? Don’t let these rumours bother you,” Shiho speaks up with a reassuring smile. “Let them talk, it’ll be over soon.”

“Yeah! Don’t worry about it!” Ann joins in. “They’re just too scard to get to know you. But, I dunno, from the beginning, I’ve had this weird sensation that I know you from somewhere… I wonder why…”

Akira blinks. After the person he walked into yesterday, Ann is the second on one to mention the feeling that they already know each other, “I dunno. Maybe I just have one of those common faces?”

Ann puts a finger to her chin and frowns, “No… I don’t think it’s a matter of the face.”

“It’s more so… the way you act? Or the way you talk?” Shiho continues before settling with a smile. “Well, even if we talk about it, it’s not like we’re getting anywhere. Like I said, soon enough, there will be something more interesting for people to gossip about.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Akira says.

They reach the bread stand and pay quickly. Ann leads them to an empty corner of the courtyard. Akira purchases a can of Dr. Salt Neo from the vending machines before joining Ann and Shiho on the bench. The rest of lunch passes uneventfully as Akira wrestles with the tightly sealed bag of cream bread and Ann wrenches open the bag with brute force, causing the plastic bag to split down the middle and the bread to roll pitifully onto the floor. Ann’s desperate apologies is drowned out by Shiho’s laughter and Akira’s shrugging.

“Five second rule.”

“Ew!”

They return to their classes when the bell rings, with promises to watch Shiho’s volleyball practise after school. The afternoon classes are still boring, but with something to look forward to, even the treacherous trek of endless lecturing doesn’t seem that terrible.

* * *

In the gymnasium, Ann cheers loudly every time Shiho moves in to hit the ball. It’s a little embarrassing at first, what with everyone in the gym turning to look at the loud cheering every time, but Akira soon finds himself joining in the cheering. Shiho’s smile as she waves back at the two during a quick break seems to immediately make everything worthwhile.

Even the tiniest bit of contentment from Akira, however, seems to not escape Ann’s watchful eye, “Oh~~~ Do I see love blossoming for Shiho there?”

“Funny.”

“I’m still first in line, alright? If you want to get to Shiho, you’ll have to get past me first!” Ann says, puffing up her chest with pride.

Akira chuckles, “You like her?”

At Akira’s words, Ann visibly deflates and a soft blush covers her cheeks. Her eyes shoot sideways for a glance of Shiho before coming back to look at Akira in the eye again, “Y—Yeah… I do, but…”

“You have my full support.”

It seems Ann’s spirits are lifted again with only five words from Akira. She excitedly says, “Really? I’ll be counting on you!”

“Certainly, I live to serve.”

“Wow, did you really say that with a straight face? How old are you?”

“I’ll be turning five thousand six hundred and twenty seven next month.”

“You’re not funny, you know?”

“You two seem to be having fun?” Shiho walks up to them, wiping a towel across her face before hanging it around her neck. “Thanks for cheering, by the way. It was… quite something.”

“I live to serve,” Akira says again.

“Ancient and no creativity, huh,” Ann teases. “Akira and I were just talking about how amazing you are! When does practise end? Want to grab some cake after?”

Shiho freezes. Her face darkens and her eyes harden. Taking a half step back, her brows knit together and her eyes fall to the floor, “Practise ends in thirty minutes… but Kamoshida wanted to discuss… strategies with me after practise. I don’t know how long that’s going to take.”

“…We can’t go with you?” Ann says with concern. Shiho shakes her head.

“It’s meant to be confidential… Or something.”

“We’ll wait,” Akira says. The other two immediately turn to look at him, so he elaborates. “You’ll be in the PE office, right? We’ll wait for you just down the hallway so we’ll be out of earshot, but if you need us, we’ll be right there.”

He doesn’t know exactly what induced such fear into Shiho and Ann, but it must be related to what Ann was going to tell him about Kamoshida during lunch. While waiting for Shiho with Ann, he’ll make sure to get the story in full. For now, comforting words should work the best.

“Yeah! We’ll wait!” Ann joins in. “If Kamoshida does anything weird, just shout, alright? We’ll be right by your side.”

“But I… volleyball… it’s the only thing I can do right,” her voice is shaking and she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. “I don’t… know what to do…”

“Then make me the bad guy,” Akira offers. “My reputation can’t get any worse.”

“Won’t you get expelled?” Shiho shoots back and Akira has to take a second to think.

“Actually, yeah, maybe. Oops, didn’t think that far.”

“Akira…” Ann says with disappointment as Shiho bursts into laughter.

“Shiho! We’re starting practise again! Hurry!” one of her teammates call and Shiho waves back.

“Thanks guys, I feel better now, but I have to go. Don’t put yourself in danger for my sake, alright?”

Watching her back straighten as she headed back onto the volleyball court, with the harsh lighting raining down from above, illuminating her figure, Akira can’t help but to mutter to Ann, “I totally get why you like Shiho now.”

“She’s cool! Right?”

“She’s so cool, I think I’m in love.”

“Hey! I already told you to get in line!”

“Let’s go to the courtyard, I’m getting a drink,” Akira says suddenly, and the meaning behind his words isn’t lost on Ann.

“I’ll go with you, then.”

They arrive at the courtyard in no time at all, and Akira purchases another Dr. Salt Neo, “You want anything?”

“Something not carbonated,” Ann says and Akira tosses her a Nastea. “You’re drinking that again? It’s your second one today.”

“It’s OK,” Akira assures her. “Sooner or later I’m going to start working out and gain the figure of a pretty boy.”

“Really?” Ann says skeptically, but her expression suddenly turns serious and a flash of annoyance passes across her face. “Anyway, Kamoshida. Shiho hasn’t told me much, but from what I gathered, Kamoshida is using her starter position on the volleyball team to threaten her against getting help while he physically abuses the members of the team. The school passes off the injuries of the team as ‘Oh yeah well y’know Kamoshida’s the star volleyball Olympics big shot so of course his practises are brutal’. What bullshit.”

“Is Shiho also being abused?”

“She hasn’t said anything about it, but she gets bruises all the time. I _watch_ half her practises, there’s no way those bruises are from practise. So I’m sure that after practise… he…” her fists clench, and it’s easy to see the anger boiling out of her.

“But when you saw Shiho during lunch today, you asked if Kamoshida did something weird, what was that about?” Akira asks.

“Shiho hasn’t told me anything about the physical abuse, but she let slip one time that Kamoshida was asking for… sexual favours from her. That disgusting perverted teacher! I was putting up with it—”

“You were?”

Ann sighs in frustration, “Yeah, Kamoshida’s been trying to ask for my number. Something about wanting to get to know Shiho better so he can decide if he should put her on the starter team. If it was just that, he wouldn’t be asking me to go meet up with him after school at places where minors wouldn’t dare go near.”

“Yeah, sounds like a whole load of bull.”

“I _know_! But I don’t know what I can do. This whole school revolves around Kamoshida’s Olympic medal. Even if the Principal knew about it, they still wouldn’t do anything about it. Oh, and before you declare you’re about to do something stupid, it’s _not_ happening, OK? We’re friends. We’re going to make it through together.”

Akira slowly sips at his Dr. Salt Neo. His past friends left him at the first chance they had, there’s no guarantee Ann won’t do the same. At the same time this thought crosses his mind, he suddenly remembers the torn up fashion magazine he found in the cardboard box at home. He’s not sure why it popped up in his mind, but with its appearance, all doubts in Ann dissipate.

He really hopes he won’t be betrayed once again.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So the only thing left is figuring out how.”

“Yeah… This is hard, huh.”

“I dunno, I still say we can smokebomb the PE office and run for it.”

“We are _not_ bombing anywhere, Akira,” Ann says adamantly. “At least, not with Shiho in range. Maybe when Kamoshida’s alone in the office.”

“Oh? So you _are_ interested.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

“Well, nonetheless, we can bomb the PE office some other—” two students near the courtyard and Akira cuts himself off. “So yeah, that cake place we were talking about, did you check out the menu yet?”

“Huh?” Ann asks in confusion. When she sees Akira gesture at the two students nearing them, she stutters, “Uh— Uh yeah! I, uh just took a look like two seconds ago! Ahaha.”

“What are you getting?” Akira asks, ignoring the two students bantering in front of the vending machine now. Ann’s fumbling is causing him physical pain to look at, but there was no predicting such terrible acting skills, so he simply prays that the two students hadn’t heard about their bombing plans.

“Ummm? Maybe the… uh— cake?”

“I was thinking of the tiramisu. Shiho mentioned she wanted the Mont Blanc, so maybe get something else? We could always try each other’s.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right!”

“Let me pull up the menu,” Akira offers.

“ _Dude, is the criminal hanging with Ann now?_ ”

“ _You think he_ _’s forcing her? She sounds scared out of her mind!_ ”

When the two students are finally out of earshot, Akira breathes a sigh of relief, “I’m forcing you to hang with me, huh…”

Ann laughs awkwardly, “Don’t think too much of it?”

“The only thing I can think of right now is your terrible acting.”

“HEY!”

* * *

In the end, as Ann and Akira escorted Shiho up to the PE office, the plan they decided on was simply to have Ann and Akira patrol the hallway outside the office. Whenever it seemed things were getting out of control, they could always speak up, or mention that someone else important was coming along. The point is for Kamoshida to know that he’s not alone with Shiho. But as for the usefulness of the strategy, they’ll have to wait to see it in use.

“Remember, Shiho, two coughs if he’s acting out of line! Two coughs!” Ann emphasizes once again. Shiho nods.

“I got it, but if Kamoshida looks out of the office, you two need to hide! If he finds out it’s Ann and the new transfer student… I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Hey, I’m great at running,” Akira assures. “Worst comes, I’ll drag Ann up to the balcony. Just worry about yourself. We’re going to get cake after this, yeah?”

“Yeah. Definitely!” Shiho beams before knocking on the door of the PE office and heading in. The door slams shut behind her.

Silence fills the corridor as Akira and Ann stare at each other, waiting for signal from Shiho. Approximately five minutes later, Kamoshida’s voice booms from the office, followed by two coughs.

Akira and Ann exchange looks. Ann pulls out her phone to pretend-dial her workplace. Pulling out his own phone, he pretends to dial Sojiro and says into the microphone loudly, “Ah, yes? I’ll be with some friends so I’ll be home later today! Did you need me to get any groceries? Ah, got it, CABBAGES AND CARROTS, RIGHT? HOW MUCH—”

The door slams open, revealing the Kamoshida that looked like he was close to blowing a fuse. With his eyes wide, nostrils flared and triangular hair standing up, he looked like an ogre.

But that alone would also be an insult to ogres, so Akira refrains himself from voicing his opinions.

“Who’s out here making a racket?” Kamoshida demands. Spotting Akira and Ann, a creepy smile replaces the rage on his face, “I haven’t seen you around.. Are you the new transfer? Ann, you don’t want to be near someone like him—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Akira says back into his phone. “I was near the office and was a bit loud, so one of the teachers is talking to me. Please give me a second,” with one hand covering the mic of his phone, he bows to Kamoshida. “I apologize, I was on the phone with my guardian and didn’t realize the racket I was making.”

Ann seemed to have actually called her workplace and is currently in discussion about her hours, with only her back facing Kamoshida. By the sound of things, the conversation isn’t ending any time soon.

“Was there something else you needed?” Akira asks, feigning politeness in his voice to the best of his ability.

Kamoshida’s gaze flickers to the phone in Akira’s hand before focusing on Ann and back at Akira, “No, I’m busy right now, so take your phone call somewhere else.”

“Understood,” Akira says, only to have the door shut in his face. He pockets his phone and joins Ann. When Ann finally breathes out and hangs up, he says, “You actually phoned your workplace?”

“Yeah, weren’t we supposed to?”

“Sh! Don’t let him hear this,” he pulls Ann into the staircase nearby and heads up a floor. “The plan just now was more or less a bust, he doesn’t seem to care if he’s heard across the phone, what now?”

“…Smokebomb?”

“You say that like we have one on hand.”

“I dunno… I could offer to go home with him? Or something?”

“No,” Akira says firmly. “Shiho already said, right? No dangering anyone. I wonder if I could ask him if I could join the volleyball club?”

“Would that work?”

“Dunno.”

“Let’s go back first, I don’t want to miss one of Shiho’s signals.”

“Yeah.”

When they reach the door to exit the staircase, Shiho is already exiting the PE office. She quickly joins the other two, “Hey! I heard you guys,” she laughs a bit. “Cabbages and carrots, was it?”

Akira shrugs, “I tried.”

“Were you alright, Shiho?” Ann asks.

“He was about to hit me, but Akira’s cabbages managed to do it,” Shiho laughs again and stretches. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time, should we go get cake now?”

“Oh yeah.”

* * *

[check wordcount]

 


End file.
